


When it Rains

by TangentiaLives



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cuddle, Fluff, M/M, Rain, That's it, bonding over pasts, hope you have a dentist on call, seriously, seriously teeth rottingly fluffy, that's the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-27
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 23:20:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1529486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangentiaLives/pseuds/TangentiaLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even now, years later, rain still brought out the urge to slide up next to someone and soak in their soft heat, share the intimacy of a light doze and the staggered rhythm of dual breaths disrupting the plink-plinks of droplets outside. But even though he was surrounded by a bunch of touchy-feely werewolves, did anyone want to cuddle with one Stiles Stilinski? No, they did not. And it kind of sucked.</p><p>Okay, it sucked a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When it Rains

**Author's Note:**

> Kians-reball posted: IT’S SO HARD WHEN YOU’RE IN A CUDDLY MOOD AND DON’T HAVE ANYONE TO CUDDLE WITH THIS IS AN OUTRAGE
> 
> This resulted. Oops.

"This is an outrage!" Stiles told precisely nobody as he starfished onto his bed, listening to his words echo in the empty room. "I _need_ someone to cuddle with. Seriously. Rainy days equal cuddling. It’s scientifically proven somewhere, I’m sure of it.”

The rain _plip-plopped_ onto his windowpane in reply, and he let out a gusty sigh. “Yeah. Nobody wants all up on this. I get it.” He let himself breathe into the comforter, his limbs relaxing as the rhythmic sound of rain calmed him down, and slide into a half-awake state. It was easy to do when it rained, his mind slowing down to a crawl and his body stilling his fidgeting.

He used to cuddle with his mom when it rained, her hands absently running through his hair as they dozed on the couch with the television on low. When she’d died, he’d turned the volume up on the couch to muffle the sound of rain hitting the roof and windows, but he couldn’t do anything about the empty space next to him. So he ignored it, swaddling himself in a thick, fuzzy blanket, and stubbornly watched the bright figures until his eyes blurred.

Even now, years later, rain still brought out the urge to slide up next to someone and soak in their soft heat, share the intimacy of a light doze and the staggered rhythm of shared air disrupting the _plink-plink_ s of droplets outside. But even though he was surrounded by a bunch of touchy-feely werewolves, did anyone want to cuddle with one Stiles Stilinski? No, they did _not._ And it kind of sucked.

Okay, it sucked a lot.

He groaned and shifted to his side, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under his head. The light wasn’t on, so the only thing illuminating his room was the dim natural light through his window. Shadows lurked in the corners, creeping over his desk and onto his posters, but he knew nothing inhabited them. No, the only creepy mccreeperface who would do that would have announced himself by now, and Stiles knew that he was otherwise occupied training the betas (although he knew that they would all be piled together watching a movie since it started raining, but he hadn’t been privy to the all-werewolf-training, all-the-time party).

But he was done with homework and he felt lazy enough to let himself off the hook for organizing the bestiary for once in his life, his body leaden and eyelids fluttering shut. Blackness swept over him, and he fell into it thankfully, because it wouldn’t demand the impossible of him.

The scrape of his window opening woke him up some hours later, and he jerked upright, mind already sifting frantically through the possibilities of what could have gone horribly wrong to warrant Derek’s presence.

"What is it?" he demanded, scrabbling for his phone to see if he had missed any texts from Scott and knuckling the sleep from his eyes. "What’s wrong?"

_5 New Text Messages_

"Stiles, calm down." Derek stepped further into the room, his clothes soaking wet and dripping onto the floor, and pulled out his phone, shooting off a quick text. "You weren’t answering your phone, so I-we thought it would be a good idea to come check on you."

_[4:20] Dude movie night @ Dereks! Come watch!_

_[4:43] Seriously its a Marvel marathon youre missing out_

_[5:57] Stiles? Dude?_

_[6:11] Stiles where are you??_

_[6:16] Derek’s going to check your house._

Exhaling noisily, Stiles let his phone drop on the bed. “Nothing’s wrong?” he double checked. “Derek, you’re dripping water on my floor.”

"It’s raining," Derek replied defensively, shoulders hunching slightly, and confirmed, "Everyone’s fine. Just concerned about you."

A smile quirked his mouth, and he drawled, “Worried? About little ole me? You’re too kind.” Despite his sarcasm, he felt warm. Part of the pack, indeed, though sometimes he felt like he wasn’t. Wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong or fast enough, wasn’t _wolf_ enough _._ Just. Not enough.

"Do you want a towel?" he asked as Derek tried to surreptitiously dry his hair, the water trickling down onto his face and neck in rivulets. Not waiting for a reply, he bounced off the bed and into the bathroom, handing him a towel. Derek took it wordlessly, wiping off his face and and air and patting ineffectually at his clothing.

A thought occurred to him. “Did you run here?”

"It was faster than a car." A quiet admission into the cotton of the towel, low enough Stiles had to lean forward to hear it.

"It’s kind of pouring, dude." Stiles checked the window to make sure it still was, and yep. Rain in sheets. Rain in droves. Raining cats and dogs. The last thought made him smother a laugh, and Derek whipped up to look at him, face melting from surprised to embarrassed to a scowl.

"I know that," he snapped in reply, throwing the towel onto the floor, where it landed into a light blue, damp heap, and crossing his arms, "but it doesn’t really matter when you might be in trouble, does it?"

Stiles held up his hands. “Woah, woah, I didn’t mean anything by it.” Derek relaxed marginally, shoulders smoothing out and jaw unclenching from its set position, and Stiles scrabbled for something else to say as he sat back on the bed and leaned against the headboard.

"Mom used to cuddle with me when it was raining," he confessed, and it was Derek’s turn to step closer, peeling off his jacket absently to reveal a damp, clingy v-neck that derailed Stiles’ entire train of thought. He swallowed thickly, ripping his eyes away from the revealing sight and back up to Derek’s face, trying to remember what he was saying because Derek was actually _listening,_ which, woah, kind of nice. “When it rained, we’d bundle up in a blanket on the couch and watch bad day-time soaps or cartoons because nothing else was on, and we’d end up falling asleep together.” Wistfully, he smiled, recalling Mom’s soft laughter in his ear. “It was nice.”

Silence for a moment, then Derek unexpectedly offered, “Laura used to sleep with me when we were younger.” At Stiles’ inquisitive look, he shrugged, explaining, “Thunderstorms.” His ears slowly tinged pink, and Stiles stared at him, amused.

"Werewolves scared of thunderstorms?"

The pink tinge spread to his cheekbones, and he shifted his weight. “It’s louder to us than it is to humans.”

Stiles put him out of his misery, conceding, “Fair enough.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Derek still dripping a bit, Stiles propped up against his pillows, and the surrealness of the situation gripped him. It was dark outside, a quiet rumble of thunder occasionally breaking the silence, and the rain continued. Thunderstorms. Rain. Why not?

He sucked in a breath, exhaling noisily through his teeth before coming to a decision, feeling his heartbeat accelerate in anticipation at what was either going to rock or end in sudden and painful humiliation and/or possible injury.

"Well," he said bravely, "I don’t know about you, but I could sure use some company right now. It’s raining, I’m sleepy, and the thunder is getting on my nerves. Seriously, it’s loud enough to make me think it could be a ravening monster after me." He paused dramatically. "I need someone to protect me."

Derek looked like he had been hit with a two by four, mouth opening slightly to respond (which required sound, can you believe it, which was not issuing from said mouth), and Stiles waved the sheet impatiently. “Well? Are you coming or not?” His hand shook at bit as he crawled underneath the blanket himself, not that he would admit it.

"You want me to…." Derek trailed off uncertainly, and Stiles nodded, staring at him through slitted eyes as he snuggled into his pillow.

"Yeah. I mean, well, only if you want, no pressure here, God, I promise that’s not what I meant, only cuddle-ready participants wanted," he babbled, his mouth getting ahead of him as always, but it seemed he didn’t really have anything to worry about because Derek was stepping forward with intent. 

"That thunder does sound a little menacing," he agreed quietly, lips quirking slightly. 

"Wha-yeah.  _Yeah_. Totally. But hey, uh, there’s a no boots and wet clothing policy in  _cama de Stilinski_ , so you’re gonna have to…” Stiles motioned with his hands. “But I have sweats that might fit you if you want clothes! Nakedness not required.”  _Though it’d be nice_.

"Demanding, aren’t you?" he grumbled, and Stiles gaped because he was-he-undressing-he was getting naked in front of him _oh God_ have mercy on his soul, Derek Hale was undressing in front of him with terrifying efficiency, unlacing his boots and setting them by his bed in a neat pair, hands unbuckling his belt and pulling down his pants quickly, the sodden material hitting his floor with an audible thump, and then it was Derek in front of him in tight briefs and a quiet, assessing gaze, and _then he was in bed with him under the covers_ , pressing in close and filling in all the gaps Stiles didn’t know he had. 

"Turn over," Derek ordered gruffly, and Stiles, still blankly uncomprehending that this was happening, let Derek turn his pliant body onto his side and spoon up behind him, arm around his waist, knees pressing against the backs of his, face buried in the nape of his neck, breathing slowly. The sound of the rain filled the room again, and Stiles gradually relaxed, his body unwinding.

It was nice, having someone against him like this, although Derek was _definitely_ not his mom, all hard angles and muscles where she had been soft and rounded, and they had certainly never slept half naked together, because, wait, ew, no. He suppressed a shudder and stilled abruptly when teeth grazed against his neck in an unmistakable warning.

"Stop thinking," Derek rumbled, and Stiles actually felt it, felt the vibrations travel up from his chest and into his throat. "Go to sleep, Stiles."

"I-" he breathed out, gnawing his lip, "-I, yeah, okay."

He closed his eyes and thought how, perhaps his crazy thoughts and wishes about Derek weren’t so crazy after all.

 

______________

 

 

 

[Tumblr](Onthehowl.tumblr.com)


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